Free Verse
by Mam'zelleCombeferre
Summary: A collection of Sherlock Holmes themed free verse poems.
1. 10Temptation

1Silence

It's mind blowing, and lasts only for a moment

Then screams

Shouts of re-lived pain

Of waking nightmares

Then there is the needle

Poised above my arm

Clear,

Pure ecstasy

Can I be blamed for wanting peace?

But those screams

Taunting, daunting

Seem to say, "What right have you?"

"What right have you to escape, when I must stay to fight?"

I try to reason,

But ultimately there is no reasoning,

And I put the needle down.


	2. A Young British Soldier

A/N: I'm Back!!!! This is from the perspective of a young girl watching a young Watson as he waits for the boat that will take him to Afghanistan. I owe the idea to Monty Twain's portrayal of Watson's Family in "Legacies" and from Pompey's fic. "On Afghanistan Plains". I also stole the title from both the Rudyard Kipling Poem, and Pompey's other fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own. If I did would I be writing this?????????? No....I would be long gone off this earth. I don't own the last line either. It belongs to Rudyard Kipling.

A Young British Soldier

There he stands,

His uniform still stiff,

Waiting for the boat to come.

He is alone.

No family to hug and reassure him.

No one to remind him he's doing the right thing.

Only two bags.

Going off to war.

The fact that he is a doctor,

Makes it no less daunting.

No less scary.

Makes him no less afraid.

All he has ever known,

Forsaken for the protection of others.

He checks his watch,

The boat has arrived.

Left up now to fate,

If his life is to take,

His bags are packed,

He doesn't look back,

And is off,

As a young British soldier.

Do you like it???? I am sorry I took so long to update. This poem took forever to write because I was doing it during my free time in marching band on the back of John Phillip Sousa's "The Golden Jubilee March."


	3. Withdrawal

**A/N: This came to me quite by accident. I don't know what inspired me to write this, but maybe that's the better way of going about it.**

**Withdrawal: Noun, Discontinuation of the use of an addictive substance and the physical and mental readjustment that accompanies such discontinuation.**

Calling.

Its sweet whispers,

Like a sirens song.

No! No...for Watson's sake no!

_-Oh but he doesn't have to know_

_It murmurs..._

My head reels.

It is true.

Watson is gone...

But he should know better than to leave me alone,

When I am still fighting this weakness...

This addiction.

I should have known better than to have stayed behind.

_-You should have known a great many things,_

_But we should not dwell in the past._

_Collapse in my embrace,_

_We can forget together._

No! You charming seductress no!

I should have known,

I have always known,

Yet didn't acknowledge,

Your love didn't come without risks,

Without danger.

And yet my longing to escape,

Overpowered my every sense.

The mind I believed I had complete control over,

Ran away with me, and yet-

_-You know you want me._

_Its voice grows harsher,_

_More desperate._

_You know you need me!_

Perhaps I did,

But now,

Now you are a problem,

An obstacle that must be obliterated,

Forgotten,

And destroyed!

Silence.

My voice is shaky.

Breath ragged.

Stomach turning.

My resolve is breaking.

My voice,

So defiant before,

Now feels weak.

_-See you do need me._

_Why fight?_

_Just give in_

_Like every other time before._

Excuses abound...

Cocaine and ambition,

When one is absent,

The other remains.

_-Who gave him the right to control you?_

_It sneers._

I gave him the right

The same way I gave it to you when I was young and foolish.

"Holmes!"

My friends voice rings out.

Warm, safe,

And the monster hisses,

Bowing out in retreat.

No more...

I whisper,

Humbly, defiantly.

My voice rings out,

Echoing in the empty silence.

I have won the battle,

The demon is gone,

Back into retreat,

But the war is far from won.


	4. Epiphany

A/N: This is a bit over romanticized for Holmes, but I think that Holmes needed to say some stuff too after The Problem. When you think about it, despite the fact that Watson believed his friend was dead, Watson still had the ability to make friends, whereas Holmes only had Watson as a friend and after the falls he had no one. But I hope you enjoy. Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I also want to dedicate this to Olabyrintho who makes me smile on a daily basis.

Epiphany

A flash of lightning,

Searing pain

To the world I am dead,

I no longer exist,

I am dead to myself.

Sherlock Holmes is no more.

The taste of freedom should be sweet,

But it disappoints.

I drop to my knees, not caring about the mud.

And I pray.

It occurs to me that I haven't prayed in years,

Does God even want to listen to me,

The lost sheep,

The broken man?

But then a sense of profound peace comes over me.

There is no other voice this could be.

Every pent up frustration escapes me in the form of tears,

Sobs,

A poignant purgation.

I am their for hours,

A second thought says only minutes, but I cannot tell.

The last of my strength is spent tearing myself away.

Even the roar of the falls is not loud enough to drown out the horrible sound of a desperate man.

I once said I was lost without my Boswell,

It was said flippantly, off-handed,

Now it is true,

And I don't know what to do.

Climbing down the falls,

My new life begins.

Emile Sigerson is born.

Looking back is no longer an option,

For if I did I couldn't survive,

But one last thing,

Two words,

Good bye.

A/N: Hope this pleased you guys!!!! Don't forget to read and review. If you have any ideas for future poems, don't hesitate to pm me or put it in a review.


	5. Vengeance

A/N: The part of my imagination that churns out poetry is running full force, plot bunny part not so much. Hope this is good. I wrote it during world history when I should have been listening to presentations.

Vengeance

I have to catch you,

Need to find you,

You show up in my dreams.

There you stand,

Laughing,

Mocking me and my mistakes.

Mistakes that allow you to evade me one more time,

Always one more time.

It's a nightmare.

You're a mastermind,

The Napoleon of crime,

As well known to criminals,

As you are a unknown to the public.

You're the puzzle I haven't solved,

And it frustrates and enrages,

It ended over the falls.

A/N: I would love some constructive criticism on this one. I am still a little unsure about how this one turned out.


	6. Stirring of the Wind

A/N: This was kind of a hard one to write for me. I purposely wrote this to be somewhat ambiguous. Warning for character death.

Stirring of the Wind

Can you feel the stirring of the wind?

The years fly by on the summer breeze,

And the winter gale.

We are getting older.

There is no denying it anymore.

Where did our energy go?

It disappeared with our youth.

It's getting harder to do what we did so well before.

Our dying day, which used to seem so far,

It's right around the bend.

I can almost feel it.

Getting older never seemed so scary before.

I'm not ready to leave this life yet,

Or more so, I am not ready to leave you behind.

You've always been the first one to go into the unknown,

Now all you can do is hold my hand till I am too weak to resist the pull of such a pure light.

The clock is ticking,

In perfect rhythm with my heart.

My breathing slows,

My hand raises to wipe your tears,

I want to tell you that this won't be the last time we meet.

Our souls will be together soon.

I'll wait for that day.

As my vision fades to black,

The last thing I see is your face.

And as I slip away,

...I am happy.

A/N: Good, bad?


	7. Tick Tock

Tick Tock

Suspense.

Tension is in the air.

He's been gone over and hour!

Click

The grating noise of a turning key...

One...

Two...

Three...

"Happy birthday Holmes."


	8. Eternal Bachelor

Eternal Bachelor

She smiles,

His head spins,

I watch from the wings.

This drama unfolds,

It's ending untold.

Blossoming love.

This, I realize, I have never felt.

And for a moment, I feel sad, empty.

Even my brother , most unsocialable man he is,

Has felt the touch of woman's heart.

I harbor distrust of the fairer sex,

And with good reason,

But somehow...somehow...

Bah!

Love is a fools game.

A place to put your trust when no other place remains.

Not me.

I am independent.

I need not place my trust in anything,

For nothing and no one can be trusted.

I am the eternal bachelor,

And that I shall always remain.


	9. Sleepless in London

Sleepless in London

He startles awake,

A cold sweat envelopes him.

It is the fourth time this night.

What is it that frightens him?

A sweet dream,

Or a beautiful nightmare?

That both entices and repels

Also gives and takes,

Fixes and destroys.

Noise.

Sounds that leap from his imagination,

Into reality.

Scenes that occurred,

Before they became visions.

These are his demons.

So he reaches for another monster.

This one small, but sharp.

Thin and appealing, he tugs,

Pricks, and shoots.

Relief.

Endorphins that are bought at too high a price,

Yet are paid for all the same.

He sinks again.

Another man watches.

* * *

He cannot sleep either.

Their demons are different,

Yet oh so much the same.

He sees death,

Feels tears, till he wakes,

And realizes they are his own.

He sees long golden hair,

That flashes and is gone.

He walks his room at night,

Sleep deprivation still a better alternative than the visions

He hasn't gotten over,

Never really forgot-

Hurt, pain, grief, despair, relief, remorse,

All familiar feelings.

He despises his friends habit.

Nothing hurts him more than to see his one living friend,

Killing himself slowly,

One cell at a time

He will waste away,

Become a shadow of a hollow shell.

This haunts his nights as well.

* * *

Dawn approaches.

The orange and pink tints bring the promise of a new day,

Both will come down the stairs,

And pretend that nothing happened.

That neither of them,

Knows anything about the others habits.

But not even their landlady is ignorant.

She knows the same as them.

Yet they all pretend.

What a fine group of actors!

The new day begins.

A new client,

A new case,

And no more sleepless nights for now.


	10. The Fog

The Fog

Clip Clop

Tick Tock

A whinny

A Bell

Sounds all around

But not seen

Only heard

The Fog covers them all.

The people walk

Children talk

But the Fog covers them all

Criminals stalk

Homes stand still

Babies cry

Birds fly

But they are over the Fog

Always staying

Never leaving

People bleeding

People dying

Escape is easy

Because of the Fog

The Fog chokes off life

It leaves those in it long enough

Empty shadows

That dance off the Fog

No light

A dreadful plight

All out of sight

Night is day, and day is night

In the Fog that covers all.


	11. Nightmare

Nightmare

Blackness

My mind wanders

Why is it so dark?

There is nothing to deduce from this.

I am unnerved,

But not scared.

I hear a shot ring out.

Splashing red on the blank canvas.

Blood.

Please Lord,

Please do not let this be the blood of whom I think,

"Please!"

No one answers.

Then he wakes up.


	12. Art in the Blood

A/N: I am quite proud of this one!!!!!! I am still not sure about the ending though. Can't tell if I like it or not. Hope you do though!

Art in the Blood

What constitutes art?

Is it the feel of a blank canvas,

And the look of the artist that sees its potential?

Or is it the writer,

Making the most mundane tasks extraordinary?

Perhaps for some, it is that last note of a song

That seems to quiver in suspended motion,

For longer than seems possible.

Maybe it's those subtle glances young lovers share from across the room,

When their minds should be elsewhere,

But instead,

They are filled with thoughts of each other.

Or is it that image of happiness we all keep in our mind's eye

Of the friends and family we love.

One thing is for sure,

It is never ordinary,

And always passionate.

In summary,

It is a gift,

And not to be taken lightly.

Art in the Blood is whatever you want it to be,

Anything you are passionate about,

Anything that makes you truly happy,

Anything and Everything.

Art is living,

Art is loving,

Art is life.

A/N: Good/Bad????? Please do review. Concrit is welcome!!


	13. Cat on Wet Grass

A/N: Another one. I do not know whether this one really fits the feeling I am trying to convey or not, but it was inspired by sentence from Tristan the Dreamers fic Chemical Analysis (go read that as soon as you finish this poem) in which she compares depressed Holmes to a cat on wet grass. Do enjoy!

Pain is loudest in its silence.

In an empty room the strangled sobs reverberate.

The soul feels empty,

And the pangs are deafening.

There is a familiar presence in the room.

A warm embrace,

Free flowing tears,

He's still alone and afraid.

Like a cat on wet grass,

The moment you think you've found balance,

Another spot,

Wet with previous tears,

Brings you falling again.

And again and again.

Why?

His whole being radiates strength,

And just when he begins to believe it,

Someone tries to get close,

And it's gone.

The fragile strength fades.

The dark my come before the dawn,

But the only reassurance drawn from that

Is that the dark will come once again,

And he fades into obscurity.


	14. Watson

Watson

He was extraordinary, yet ordinary

Common, but never plebeian

A describer of the fantastic,

And in the process,

Became grand himself.

He had his faults, yes,

But so much more character

A model of decorum and pride.

Yet underappreciated.

He never got the thanks he deserved,

But it was always important to him

That he try his hardest,

That he always fully threw himself into the task at hand,

Whether it was helping the ungrateful,

or saving those in need of it.

A gentle spirit.

And a soldier.

A fighter for justice.

His weapon not always a revolver,

But a pen,

And paper.

A brave man,

A stern man,

But above all,

A merciful man.


	15. Unrestrained

Unrestrained

Racing,

Pulsing,

Slide.

How smoother her neck feels.

Sweet music,

Discord,

Then silence.

Art in the blood

May manifest itself in strange ways,

But this is beauty.

The time he forgets logic,

A purely sensual pleasure.

He is happy to see his companion

Filled with such a sweet joy.

This is no artificial stimulant.

It is his own form of therapy.

Allowing him to be unrestrained,

If just for a little while.

No chains, no conventions,

Just wild beauty.

How much I love that smile.

The smile that remains

Even as he caressingly puts the violin away

Then he stops,

Composes himself,

And puts on his public front.

It is abrupt,

And unsettling for some,

But I know what lies behind.

Never ending music,

And a heart.


End file.
